


My Side of Town

by BKat_32



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: F/M, Fake AH Crew, GTA V AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-09-30 01:50:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10150496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BKat_32/pseuds/BKat_32
Summary: Bree Mason is just your normal, run of the mill med school drop out trying to run her family's bar on one of the rougher sides of Los Santos. She normally watched the inner city gang fights from a distance, but one night she comes across something that throws her and her bar in the middle of everything.





	1. Chapter 1

Bree gazes out at the empty street still wet from the rain that happened early that night. She hears the sound of sirens in the distant, but doesn’t worry. Once you live in Los Santos for long enough you get used to being lulled to sleep by the sounds of sirens and gang fights. Especially in this part of town.

The short blonde lets out a sigh before switching off the neon ‘Open’ sign and heading back to the bar. She’s greeted by the wagging tail of her black and silver German Shepherd, Flynt, who was lounging in his bed behind the bar. She pats him on the head before glancing at the clock that told her it was almost five in the morning. Another late night. There are two things you need to be prepared for when you own a bar in this part of Los Santos; frequent bar fights and staying open late for the many alcoholics that inhabit this town.

She shakes her head and smiles slightly at the sight of Old Man Randy, a long time regular, passed out at the bar. She grabs a glass of water and sets it in front of the old war vet. Intelligible mumbles fall from the drunkards mouth as Nicole gently shakes him awake.

“Come on Randy, you gotta stop falling asleep here!” She tells the old man, once he’s somewhat awake. “Drink this and I’ll call you a cab.” More mumbles and possible slurs fall from the man’s mouth, but he follows the bartender’s orders when she hands him a glass of water.

“Hey Bree, I just finished inventory. Is there anything else you need me to do?” The chipper voice of Jon fills the empty bar as he emerges from the back room.

“Um, yeah, call Randy here a cab and then you can get out of here.” She replies, wiping down the bar top.

“Are you sure you don’t want help closing up?” He asks, setting the inventory paper work in a drawer.

“I can handle it. Just go home and get some rest.”

“At least let me come in at 10 to open. I know it’s been a while since you’ve had a decent amount of sleep.” Jon insists.

“I’m sorry, but who’s bar is this?” Nicole fires back, giving Jon a knowing look.

Jon walks over to the short blonde, putting his hands on her shoulders. “I care about you Bree, okay? Not just because you’re my boss, but because you’re my friend.”

“Fine, you can come in and open!” Nicole gives in, “Just call Randy a cab and get out of here.”

Jon smile triumphantly and pulls her into a tight hug. “I’ll just take Randy home myself. His apartment is right on the way and I really don’t feel like covering cab fare for him again.”

-

Bree laughs to herself as she watches Jon try to wrestle Randy into his car. She leans against the doorway of the bar and sarcastically cheers on her employee. Once Randy was in the back seat and stayed there, Jon waved goodbye and drove off into the mist of the early morning.

Bree watches him for a while, before she hears a small crash come from the alleyway by the bar. She turns around to investigate, but when she doesn’t see anything she shrugs it off. "Damn junkies" She huffs. When she returns inside, she finds Flynt scratching and growling at the back door that leads to the alleyway.

“Can’t you just let those alley cats live in peace buddy?” Bree bends down and scratches the dog’s ears. Flynt gives her face a friendly lick, but goes back to growling at the door. “Stupid dog.” The blonde mumbles before going back to closing up for the night.

Bree follows her normal routine; wipe down the tables, put chairs up, restock bar, and check storage to see what to order for next week. When Bree went to take the trash bags out to the dumpster in the alleyway, Flynt was still standing by the door. He’s now pacing in circles and whimpering and jumps up on the door when he sees his owner approach the door.

“All right buddy, I’ll let you out,” Bree turns the handle and the shepherd rushes into the dark alley, “Just try not to kill anything! I don’t need a dumpster that smells like dead cat again!” She shakes her head at the memory. After disposing of the numerous thrash bags, Bree scans the alley for her over excited dog. Her eyes land on him crouched down with his ears back and teeth bared at something that was hidden from her view behind another dumpster.

“Come on, Flynt. Leave the poor thing alone. Let’s go inside.” She calls for him, but he doesn’t move. Bree lets out a huff and stomps over to the dog. She grabs his collar and is about to yank him away until she lays eyes on what has her dog so agitated. “Oh my god.” She gasps before clasping her hands over her mouth and stepping back until her back hits the opposite wall of the alley.

In front of her lays a man slumped against the wall of the alley and covered in blood. The source of it coming from a large bullet wound in his lower abdomen. Bree took a deep breath to try and calm herself down before slowly approaching the man. Aside from his general build, he didn’t look all that dangerous. He wore a gray t-shirt under a dark leather jacket with blue sleeves and white stripes and his sandy blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail. He didn’t seem to have a gun or any other sort of weapon on him.

Bree crouches down next to him and reaches for his pulse point with a shaky hand. Suddenly, the man’s eyes shoot open. He gasps for breath and grabs Bree’s outstretched hand. His piercing blue eyes lock with Bree’s panicked green ones and he pushes her away from him. The small blonde falls to the asphalt, landing on her wrist with a small shriek. Flynt barks and growls at the exchange, continuing to stare down the wounded man.

The man tries to get up but falls back down with a groan of pain. Bree stares at him for a moment before the part of her that was almost a doctor takes over. She gets to her feet and approaches the man again. “I need you to calm down. I can help you.” Her voice comes out soft and a little shakier than she wanted.

The man stares at her with a quizzical look. She continues to slowly approach the man despite his harsh eyes. When she returns to her crouching position next to him, he lets out a sigh and his body relaxes slightly. Bree takes this as a sign of understanding and gets to work. She takes off her flannel and balls it up in her hands. She presses it to the man’s wound and orders him to hold it and apply pressure. He winces at the pain, but follows her instructions.

She drapes his other arm over her shoulder and helps get him to his feet. Bree’s legs shutter under the weight of the man who was taller and heavier than she anticipated. She guides the man inside the bar and Flynt follows still cautious of the stranger. The two stumble into the back lounge area and Bree carefully lays the man down on one of the sofas.

Bree quickly rushes behind the small bar that was in the room and starts frantically going through the cupboards underneath. She emerges with a large tackle box full of medical supplies. She sets it down on the coffee table in front of the sofa and sits down next to it. The man sits up slightly and watches as the panicked blonde digs through her supplies.

“Do you even know what you’re doing?” The man’s scratchy voice reaches Bree and causes her gaze to switch to him.

“If not, then those five years at medical school were a waste.” The blonde shoots back, “I hope you’re not too attached to this shirt.”

“Wh-“ But before he could reply, Bree grabbed his shirt and ripped it straight down the middle. She stares at his chest and the numerous scars and bruises that covered it. “Like what you see?” The man joked through gritted teeth. She glared at his smirking face and then got to work with cleaning the wounded area.

"What happened to you?" Bree asks, taking in the full extent of the injury.

"Got shot." The stranger replied, as if it was something that happens everyday.

“There’s no sign of an exit wound so I’m going to have to go digging and try and get that bullet out you.” Bree explains, “You might wanna find something to bite down on, cause this is going to hurt like hell.”

“I’ll be fine. This isn’t my first rodeo.” He retorts, shooting the smaller woman a wink when she gives him a curious look.

“Well you know what they say,” Bree replies, grabbing the needed supplies, “Girls like a guy with experience.” The man’s laughs in reply to her comment quickly turn to shouts of pain as the blonde digs into his wound. She pins down his upper chest with one of her legs in an attempt to keep him somewhat still.

The man’s groans eventually stop and are followed by the sound of the bullet being dropped onto the table. Bree takes a deep breath trying to relax herself. She then realizes her leg ended up shifting and she was now basically backwards straddling this stranger’s chest. She quickly scrambles to her feet and goes to grab the supplies for stitches as if nothing ever happened.

“Ready for round two?” Bree asks jokingly while threading the surgical needle.

“Bring it on, Blondie.” The man shoots back, repositioning himself.

“I like a man who’s up for anything.” It was Bree’s turn to wink, “The name’s Bree by the way.”

“Ryan.” The man replies, wincing as she starts to stitch up the bullet hole.

"Well Ryan, do you want to tell me how you ended up with a bullet in your abdomen or am I going to have to use my imagination?"

"I'm more interested in what you can come up with." Ryan replies with a smirk.

"Well, based on where you are and the time of night the rational thing to think is that you were jumped by a couple of muggers and then left to die in a pool of your own blood." Bree deduces.

"Yeah, let's go with that."

Bree gives him a curious look, but decides to leave the subject alone. A few moments later and Ryan was all patched up and downing a handful of painkillers. Bree's gaze drifted over to him as she put away her supplies. She watched him as he stood up from the couch and limped over to a large mirror on the wall. Her eyes watched his muscles shift as he moved and she tried to swallow the lump in her throat. She knows nothing about this strange man she just saved, she shouldn't be thinking about him the way she is.

"Wow, you really did know what you were doing." Ryan exclaims as he examines Bree's handiwork, "But why only five years? With talent like this you could've easily gone all eight." He turns and makes his way back to the couch by Bree.

"Thanks, but I dropped out early." Bree explains, "Money problems and family issues."

"So now you just stitch up strange guys you find in allies?" He jokes.

She chuckles at his comment, "No I actually run this bar." Bree gestures around her, "Took over the family business after my grandma wasn't able to anymore." 

"No parents?" Ryan questions.

Nicole hangs her head slightly at the question, "They've been out of the picture for a while now."

Ryan nods his head in understanding deciding to leave the topic alone. "Whoa," He explains, reaching for Bree's wrist that he had grabbed earlier, "Did I do this?"

Bree winces slightly as he runs his fingers over the newly formed bruises. "Not really, I just landed on it weird when you pushed me away. It's probably just a small sprain. I'll wrap and ice it later."

"Here," Ryan takes the supply box off the table and takes out a roll of bandages and some medical tape, "Let me."

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" Nicole says, sarcastically.

Ryan laughs, "Despite what you may think, I am pretty well educated on how to properly bandage up injuries."

"Well, I'll be the judge of that." Bree fires back as Ryan gingerly takes her wrist and begins to wrap it with bandage. Her eyes watch his as he concentrates on what he's doing. Her eyes drifted down to his bare chest, having destroyed his shirt and discarded of his leather jacket, and back to his face. 

"There you go." He says moments later, looking over his work. He looks up and his eyes meet Bree's gaze. The two stare into each other's eyes for what felt like moments. 

Bree's eyes took in all of his features; the strong jaw, piercing eyes, the strands of hair that fell in front of his face, refusing to stay in the ponytail. She swallowed the lump in her throat again and felt heat rise to her cheeks as she realized that neither of them were looking away. Ryan continued to drown in the beautiful green of Bree's eyes. His eyes darted from her high cheekbones, to her bottom lip that was tucked slightly between her teeth, to her short blonde hair that framed her face perfectly.

The two were snapped back to reality when a generic ringtone breaks the silence of the room. Ryan struggles to get his phone out of his pocket while Bree quickly packs up the supplies and goes to put them away. While crouched behind the small bar, Nicole attempts to listen in on Ryan's conversation.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, just calm down Michael...Yes, I'm safe...I'm at a bar somewhere on the south side. Someone found me and stitched me up so I'm good...No they don't know anything...Alright see you soon."

That last comment peaked Bree's interest. What didn't he want her to know? She stood up from behind the bar and leaned forward on it. "So, who was that?" Bree attempt to be casual.

"Just a friend." Ryan replies, "He's actually going to swing by and pick me up in a bit, so I'll be out of you hair."

Bree thought for a moment, curiosity getting the better of her. She had to see this guy again somehow. He was hiding something and she was determined to find out what. "Give me your phone." she says reaching her hand out to Ryan.

"Why?" Ryan questions, confused.

"Just give it to me." Ryan reluctantly unlocks his phone and sets it in the blonde's waiting palm. Bree quickly types in her cell number and sets it as a contact, before handing it back.  "Call me if anything happens with the stitches and come back here in about a week so I check up on you."

"So you're like my personal doctor now?" Ryan asks.

"Something like that," Walking over to the table to wipe it off. "Oh, don't forget you jacket." She says, grabbing it off the couch and throwing it over to it's owner. He thanks her and puts the leather jacket back on. A few minutes later and the loud sound of a car horn filled the empty bar.

"That'd be my friend." Ryan says making his way to the front.

Bree follows him out and her jaw drops at the sight outside. Parked in front of her bar was the kind of car she'd only find in magazine's or the rich part of Los Santos. "You've got some fancy friends, Ryan." She comments.

"Something like that." Ryan replies, "See you in a week!" And with that he climbed into the back of the car and it sped off into the streets. 

"Now I've seen it all." Bree says to herself. She heads inside and turns off all the lights in the front and the back, before heading up the spiral staircase to her apartment. Flynt is already laying on her unmade bed and snoozing after his stressful night. Bree strips off her jeans and climbs in with him. Her mind still reeling from her strange encounter with Ryan. She turns on the T.V to try an distract herself, but what she finds does the exact opposite. 

"And in other news, the infamous gang the Fake AH Crew lead another heist on the Mays Bank this evening. Most of the members got away. The cops opened fire on the criminals and have a confirmed hit on one of them and are still in pursuit of the masked member..."

The news anchor's voice fades into the background as Bree stares at the security image that was on screen. Anyone else would've only noticed the strange skull mask that the gang member wore, but all Nicole saw was the all too familiar leather jacket that was draped over her sofa moments ago.

"It can't be...." She mutters to herself as she continues to stare at the picture, wondering what exactly she just did.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A week has passed and Nicole visits her Grandma in search of some much needed advice on what to do about the mysterious Ryan she can't stop thinking about.

Bree winces as she hears the sounds of muffled yelling coming from her grandma's room. She makes a mental note to leave a more than generous thank you gift for the aides before knocking and entering the room. She let out a sigh of relieve when she saw that it was the TV her grandma was yelling at and not a staff member. "Grandma!" Bree practically yells to try and be heard over the vulgar insults.

Her grandma eventually notices her visitor and her mood instantly changes to joy. "Bree!" The old lady gets up and gives her granddaughter a tight hug. "Are you here to finally break me out of this prison?" 

Nicole chuckles at her grandma's comment. Sure, no one really wants to be put into assisted living, but after her grandma's accident it was necessary. "Not yet," She replied, "But I did bring gifts."

"Ah yes, flowers and the morning paper, wonderful." Sarcasm dripped from the comment as she took the items from Bree's arms.

"I also picked up your 'stress relief medicine'." The blonde smirks as she pulls out the bottle of Southern Comfort she had stashed in her bag.

"That's my girl!" Her grandma replies with a cheer, taking the bottle from her, "And this is why you're my favorite grandchild."

"I'm your only grandchild." Bree shoots back with a chuckle, walking over to the bookshelf on the other side of the room.

"What happened to your arm, sweetheart?" Mrs. Mason address the bandage on her granddaughter's wrist, "Another work accident?"

"No just regular clumsy old me." Bree lies, gently running her hands along the brace and thinks back to the events of last week. "Hey Grandma, where you happy with Grandpa's job?" The blonde's attention drifts to the expanse of picture frames on the wall and shelves. She smiles at one of her sitting on her grandpa's shoulders in front of the bar that she was now in charge of.

"No one grows up thinking they're going to marry a bartender, but yes, I was happy." She stands next to the younger Mason and hands her a glass of whiskey. "We worked well together and, hey, the bar is still standing, isn't it?

"What about your guys' other job?" Bree picks up a picture of her grandpa and four other men standing in front of a line of motorcycles. 

"Again, the bar is still standing, isn't it?" Her grandma lets out a knowing chuckle, realizing the reason behind her granddaughter's strange questions, "You're a Mason, sweetheart. Trouble will always find it's way to you, whether you want it or not. It's up to you to either turn away or run with it."

-

Her grandma's words continue to float around in her head as she glances up at the bar entrance for the millionth time tonight. "Expecting someone?" Jon's voice invades Bree''s thoughts, bringing her back to reality. 

"So what if I am?" Bree shoots back, defensively. The blonde continues cleaning the pile of glasses in the sink. 

"Because you've been spaced out for the past week so who ever this guy is he's gotta be a big deal." Bree's noisy co-worker prods, leaning against the counter next to her.

"I never said it was a guy." Bree points an accusing finger at the shaggy haired brunette. 

"Oh, honey, please. With the way you've been acting, it's definitely and guy that's been taking up space in that pretty head of yours." Jon replies leaning into Bree's personal space. 

"Wow, you really do think you know everything, don't you?" 

"You'd be shocked by the things I could spill." The smirk on Jon's face is quickly erased as a wet rag collides with his face.

"Well, Mr. Know-It-All, how about you wipe down some tables?' Bree retorts, crossing her arms and her employee. 

Jon mumbles something in response while he turns to go do what his boss asked him to do. Bree chuckles to herself before turning to the patrons at the bar. She takes orders and gives refills as she drowns in the ambient noise around her. "What can I get you?" She asks as a new person sits down at the bar.

"Well, Blondie, I believe I'm here for a routine check up." The new patron's answer causes Bree to snap out of auto pilot and finally notice the familiar icy blue eyes that watched her.

"Ryan!" Bree exclaims, quickly clearing her throat and trying not to sound too happy by his presence. "I didn't think you'd show up. I figured you'd go to a real doctor."

Ryan scoffs at her comment, "Nah, you're way better company." Bree chuckles at his comment, tucking her rag into her back pocket. "I hope you don't mind, but some of my friends tag along. They're all for checking out new bars."

"No problem! I always appreciate new costumers." Bree responds, "I'll have Jon take care of them while I check your stitches in the back."

"Sounds like a plan."

"Bree fucking Mason, is that really you?" A loud shout suddenly fills the bar. A look of shock covers Bree's face while Ryan gives a look of realization. A heavily tattooed man makes his way from the door to the bar, the biggest smile spread across his face.

"Geoff Ramsey!" Bree shouts as she runs around the bar to hug the famliar mustachioed man. Bree is picked up and spun around on impact before being set back down. 

"Since when are you back in Los Santos?" Geoff asks, still not letting go of the small blonde. "And what happened to the old hag that runs this place?"

"I've been back for a couple years now and Grandma landed herself in assisted living after a nasty spill down the steps." Bree answered, "And I'm guessing you never left?"

"Hell no. This place will always be my home." He wraps an arm around her shoulders and turns to address Ryan, who was still sitting at the bar. Now confused by the exchange going on in front of him. "If you would've told me it was Bree here that saved your ass, we would've come over here days ago."

"So I'm guessing Geoff is one of your friends?" Bree asks Ryan.

He gives a nod and points behind the pair standing in front of hi, "As well as those five."

Bree is suddenly turned to face the front where three younger guys enter followed by two red haired women. "What the fuck is going on over here?" The one with curly brown hair and glasses spoke up as he approached the bar. 

"Gang, I'd like you to meet my little sister from another mister, Bree Mason." Geoff introduces, "Bree, these are what I hesitate to call friends. The loud mouth Jersey boy is Michael, the short one is Jeremy, the dumb nose is Gavin, the ladies that look like they could kick your ass are Lindsay and Jack, and you've already met Ryan."

"Bree Mason, well now the name of the bar makes sense." Gavin says, an obviously British accent lacing his words.

"Hey! The Mason Jar is family owned establishment that's been around longer than you." Bree speaks up.

"I like it." states Lindsay.

"Thank you." Bree gives her a smile, already liking her better than the others.

-

Ryan, Geoff, and Jack stood at a table while Lindsay and Gavin played darts and Michael and Jeremy were in the middle of swindling a trucker and his friends over a game of pool. The bar ended up filling up before Bree could tend to Ryan and thanks to the lack of staffing, her and Jon were drowning in orders. In the mean time, the crew stayed occupied with the rounds of drinks that Geoff paid for. All except Ryan, however, who was more content with making sure that his friends stayed out of trouble. 

"So how do you know Bree?" Ryan asks his boss over the shouts of Jeremy and Michael. 

"Her and I go way back." Geoff explains, sipping his whiskey, "My dad worked for her Grandpa, so we basically grew up together. That girl has been through a lot, believe me. She's one tough chick." Ryan looks over at the bar where Bree takes orders and pours drinks at the speed of light, the smile never leaving her face. He's broken from his trance when a shout rings through the bar, followed by the sound of a pool cue hitting the ground. 

"You son of a bitch!" All eyes fall on Michael and the now pissed trucker. "You played me!" 

A quiet 'uh oh' falls from Geoff's lips accompanied by a sigh from Jack, "Here we go again."

"Look man, I don't know what you're talking about." Michael raises his hands, defensively, "It's not my fault you suck at pool." He glances over at Geoff who gives him a stern look, letting him know that he shouldn't try and start anything. 

"That's it, you twink." With that the trucker lands a solid right hook to Michael's jaw, before grabbing his jacket and pulling him up to the trucker's height. He lands another punch to Michael's face.

"Please sir, may I have another." Michael shoots back, unfazed by his blood filled mouth and bruising eye. The burly man raises his free hand to continue his onslaught, but the clear sound of a shotgun cocking causes him to freeze. 

"Put the kid down, Gary." Everyone's attention shifts to small blonde pointing a 20 gauge at the back of the giant's head. The truck lets out a huff before throwing Michael on the ground. "Now get out of my bar or else I'll blow your ass outta here myself."

Gary stares at Michael's smug face and clenches his fists before trudging through the crowd and out the door. Bree lets out a sigh of relief and lowers the gun, quickly putting the safety on. She looks up to see Geoff and Lindsay helping Michael off the ground. "Bring him to the back and I'll see what I can do to help."

- 

"I could've taken him." Michael mumbles again as Bree shines her phone flashlight in his eyes.

"I don't doubt that." Bree replies, taking the bag of ice Ryan offered her, "Hold this on your eye." Michael rolls his eyes, wincing slightly, but does as he's told.

"Is he gonna make it Doc?" Lindsay asks with fake panic in her voice.

Bree chuckles, "Well the good news is that you don't have a concussion, but that lip is gonna take a while to heal completely."

"I can't believe this place. It's almost exactly the same as our old men left it." Geoff lets out a breathy laugh, walking around the back and running his finger along the heavily graffiti-ed walls.

"Yeah I promised Grandma I wouldn't touch anything in case she ever came back." The blonde replied.

"What is this place anyways?" Jeremy asks, looking over the old maps and newspaper clippings covering a bulletin board.

"Ladies and gentlemen, you are standing on sacred ground." Geoff begins, causing Bree to roll her eyes at the unnecessary fanfare. "The Mason Jar is just a front to hide what really goes on in the back. This was the home of the first gang to ever rule the streets of Los Santos. Bree's grandpa and my old man were the front runners. So I guess you could say were a couple of Los Santos legacies."

Ryan turns to Bree with a quizzical look. She lets out a huff, "I wouldn't say were legacies and it was really just a glorified biker gang with a stupid name."

"Don't you dare dishonor the Christ-punchers!"Geoff yells. The reveal of the name brought out a few chuckles from the rest of the group.

"It wasn't until the 60's that they really got they're street cred." Bree explains, "They had quite the nice operation, too."

"Yep, while the men drove around and caused trouble, their women ran the bar and arranged heists and black market dealings. And they ruled the city well into the 80's." Geoff pitched in, "Hey Bree, if you kept everything the same does that mean..." He trails of pointing a finger to floor.

"Yep, the garage is completely intact." Bree responds, and chuckles at the wide smile that spreads across Geoff's face

"Wait this place as a garage?" Gavin butts in.

"This I have to see." Michael gets up from the couch and follows Geoff to a corner of the building where a small freight elevator lead to the secret basement.

"Welcome to the garage." Bree introduces, stretching her arms out as she walks into the giant concrete warehouse. A chorus of gasps and "holy shit"s echo off the empty walls. Bree smiles and walks over to where her own motorcycle and a car covered by a tarp were parked in the corner. If you so much as touch these I'll kill you." Michael and Jeremy give a nod of understanding. The loud screech of metal against metal fills the empty space as Jack hoists open the rusty garage door at the far end.

"So this leads out to the street behind the building?" The red head asks looking out into the empty night, Ryan joining her.

"Yep, that road is basically an alleyway so there's never police around." Bree answers, moving to stand next to the long haired man, "That's how my grandpa and his buddies escaped a lot of police chases." Bree explain, gazing up at Ryan.

"Not bad," Ryan meets Bree gaze, "So, 'a legacy', huh?"

Bree lets out a small laugh, "Something like that." The two stare at each other for a moment before Geoff breaks the silence.

"I have a brilliant idea!" The tattooed man exclaims, "Bree how would you feel about going into business together?" 

"Let me guess, you want to buy the bar and make it the new Clubhouse for the Fake AH Crew." Bree crosses her arms as everyone falls silent at her statement.

"H-How did you know?" Geoff stammers, taken aback by the blonde's boldness.

"You think I don't keep tabs on you?" Bree shoots back at her old friend, "Also, I recognized his jacket from news footage." She says, pointing a thumb to the gentleman beside her.

"So, what do you say?" Geoff breaks the silence, "You wanna get back in the life?" 

 _"You're a Mason, sweetheart. Trouble will always find it's way to you."_ The words echoed in her head as she stared into the eyes of her childhood friend. "What the hell." She shrugs with a smile. 

"That's my girl!" Geoff exclaims, hugging the smaller girl, "Bree Mason, welcome to the Fake AH Crew."


End file.
